


Pulse Compatibility

by taeyomi (buttercream)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Making Out, Non-Linear Narrative, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, mark's got issues to deal with, yuta is persistent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercream/pseuds/taeyomi
Summary: The problem with Yuta is that he’s positive that Mark is his soulmate.(Also he flirts. A lot.)
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 71
Kudos: 849





	Pulse Compatibility

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is. Disaster fic.  
> I've been bitten by the Yumark bug and the symptoms persisted until I finished this thing, so here *feeds it to you*  
> Please keep your expectations really low, this isn't what you think it'll be. I tagged for blowjob, but it's more like half a blowjob. You'll see LOLOLOLOLOL. 
> 
> Huge thanks to Any for helping me out! Idk what I'd do without your notes. Also thanking everyone on twitter who was forced to watch me decay because of this fic lol.

[8:12 PM] **Yuta:**  
you like my hair?  
_[IMAGE ATTACHED]_

He got his sides shaved, it seems. Like an undercut. Half of it is gelled back, and a few locks fall glamorously over his eyes. Mark frowns down at his phone, merely tightening his grip on the device in lieu of hurling it across the room as his pounding heart commands. Fucking Yuta.

“Is it Yuta?”

Jaehyun’s voice breaks Mark out of his trance. He looks up at his roommate, currently mixing hot sauce into one of those super spicy instant ramen bowls he diligently stockpiles in their pantry. 

“Huh?” Mark blinks at him, looking down at his phone briefly.

Jaehyun snorts, “You’ve got your Yuta Face on.”

“My Yuta _what_?”

“When you look both horny and annoyed,” Jaehyun shovels an insane amount of ramen into his mouth, soup dripping down his chin as he chews. Mark groans, absolutely disgusted.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He picks himself up from the couch, pocketing his phone and moving to the kitchen. Jaehyun’s gluttony reminded Mark that he hasn’t eaten anything since lunch with Taeyong.

“Sure you do,” Jaehyun yells from the living room. Mark can still hear his chewing noises. “What did he want?”

Mark grabs half a chocolate bar and pours himself some water before moving back to the living room. “Don’t talk while you chew, that’s repulsive.”

Jaehyun ignores him, as per usual. “Did he ask you out again?”

Mark flops down on the couch, retrieving his phone to realize he never replied to Yuta’s text. He takes another look at the selfie. It’s a great one. Yuta’s eyebrows are trimmed to perfection, and his eyes seem to be brighter than usual. Definitely a filter.

“He cut his hair,” Mark explains, munching on his chocolate as he prepares to type a reply.

“Really?” Jaehyun leans over to peek at the screen of Mark’s phone. Mark elbows him in the rib, effectively pushing him back to his seat. “Does it look good?”

Well, does it look good? That’s a stupid question, isn’t it? Yuta always looks good. It’s a real pain that Mark can’t reject him on the basis of Yuta being too ugly or some shit like that. No, he makes sure that he _stands out_ no matter the situation. Yuta’s got that kind of aura, a presence that’s just impossible to ignore. It might be the bane of Mark’s entire existence.

“I’ll take silence as a yes,” Jaehyun mutters, smirking and side-eyeing Mark as if he knows stuff he’s not supposed to. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Mark complains, retyping his answer for what feels like the millionth time.

It’s silent for a bit. Then, Jaehyun says, “Why are you so reluctant? He showed you his soulmate mark, didn’t he? It would be so fucking simple to just show him yours. Or even straight up tell him you’re not his soulmate. You keep chasing him away, turning it into a cat and mouse game instead of being upfront. What’s the deal, Mark?”

Mark looks up, holds Jaehyun’s gaze. He could tell the truth. Jaehyun’s his closest friend, they’ve been roommates for almost two years. Besides, he’s not the judgemental type, he would surely understand Mark’s reasoning. 

Instead of the truth, Mark says, “The two of you dated.” It’s the worst excuse he could have come up with. Everyone and their grandmas know that there was absolutely nothing serious between Yuta and Jaehyun. They’d even dare to say dating was a mistake. Mark knows that. He _knows_. 

Jaehyun doesn’t react at all. “Nice try,” he says, slurping the soup. “You should probably reply to him.”

He should. He really should. Biting on his lower lip, Mark types a definite answer and hits send before he has the chance to regret it.

[8:20 PM] **Me:**  
Yep

\--

The problem with Yuta is that he’s positive that Mark is his soulmate. If not for that tiny detail, Mark would have already caved. Yuta is hot, funny and smart. On the day they met, Mark could have sworn he felt some kind of connection thrumming between them. Compatibility. If only Yuta hadn’t brought up the soulmate thing.

Jaehyun was the one to introduce them. It was the weekend of their break-up, but neither of them seemed too sad about splitting up. Jaehyun handed Mark off to Yuta and scurried away in search of a more productive way to spend his night. They got along pretty well, chatting and watching drunk people fall over each other. It was fun. Mark pondered over kissing Yuta right there. He would have done it.

\---

It’s Taeyong who finds Mark wandering about the club. He’s holding a tall glass of something sparkly and colorful, the apples of his cheeks already dusted with pink. He says, “Yuta’s around, he’s looking for you.” 

Except that Mark saw Yuta earlier, and he didn’t look preoccupied with finding anyone.

“Last I saw him he had his tongue down some dude’s throat, he’s not looking for me.” Mark pushes past Taeyong, trying to make his way back to the bar. He’s starting to convince himself that coming out tonight was a horrible idea, he’s not having any fun. Maybe he should give in and call it a night. If he leaves now he might have time for an episode of that Japanese reality show before bed.

He’s almost making it to the door when someone grabs him by the elbow, pulling him in. 

“Where are you going?” Yuta asks. His hair is a mess, the eyeliner is smudged and his jacket is nowhere to be seen, leaving him in this thin, loose sleeveless shirt that looks like he doodled all over it himself. Yet, Mark’s heart skips a pathetic beat, breath catching. 

“Home,” Mark answers once he regains his voice. He tries to break free from Yuta’s hold, but the other one seems resolute on keeping him exactly where he is.

“Why? You just got here.” He frowns, searching Mark’s face. 

“I’m tired. Can you let me go?” 

“Noooo, it’s too early,” he whines. It’s cute. Why is it so cute? “I want to hang out with you. Please don’t go.”

Staying goes against all of Mark’s principles, especially the ones that keep him away from Yuta. It would be easy to shrug and reason that he’s tired, that it’s been a long day and there’s nothing he wants more than a shower and his bed. There he is, though, watching Mark with those pleading eyes, hands tight around Mark’s arm as if letting go was never an option.

“Okay,” he says, powerless. “I’ll stay.”

\---

Mark’s parents are soulmates. They met in their twenties, got married, a year later Mark was born. Everything moved too fast for them; they rushed as if running late. Maybe that’s where it went wrong. 

They were never in love, but divorce still shattered them both. Mark didn’t understand why his mom wouldn’t get up from her bed, why she was so sad if the request came from her. Mark was too young to understand why divorcing someone you never loved was so heartbreaking.

They’re soulmates and they failed to fall for each other when, in theory, they were universally programmed for that. Mark wonders if they lost their chance. If tricked by the fantasies and all the expectations that come with finding one’s soulmate, they lost their path to happiness.

—

It was only once that Mark let frustration get the best of him. They were out with their friends at this joint Johnny knew, and the plan was to later move to someone else’s place.

Yuta was late.

“Hey, baby,” he said when he arrived, sitting on the chair that miraculously made itself available next to Mark. He wasted no time, pecking Mark’s cheek and circling his arm around Mark’s shoulders. “Sorry, I’m late.”

It was intimate; scratched an itch so deep into Mark’s chest it was easy to forget it was there. It was alive, though, and he could feel it every time Yuta touched him.

“I don’t care that you’re late,” Mark rolled his shoulders, shaking Yuta’s arm off him. He was aware of everyone’s attention, so he made a show of taking a huge bite of his sandwich, ignoring the way his cheeks burned. “Stop calling me baby.”

“Ouch!” Someone said, probably Johnny, and everyone laughed. 

Mark didn’t look at him, didn't see his reaction. Yuta leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

“I’m starving, what should I order?” He asked.

“Their subs are great,” Jaehyun suggested, pointing his chin to Mark’s sandwich.

“Are they?” Yuta inquired, turning his head to look at Mark. “Do you want to order for me?”

Stomach fluttering with the same metaphorical butterflies that to this day take up residence there whenever Yuta is nearby, Mark averted his eyes and questioned, “Why would I order for you?”

“Because you’re my soulmate, you know me better than anyone,” was the cheeky answer, making all of their friends cackle and coo. Mark was mortified.

He just knew his whole face was burning red. “I’m not your soulmate.”

“I don’t know that, do I? You won’t show me your brand.”

Ah, there it was. It wouldn’t be a night out with Yuta if Mark wasn’t reminded of that stupid soulmate deal. Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry. The sandwich got thrown back onto the plate, and Mark stood up.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” he announced. The faces around the table all shifted from amusement to tension.

“Wait, don’t be like that, man,” Taeil said.

“He was joking.”

“He always does that, you know Yuta.”

“That’s the thing,” Mark blurted, glaring at Jaehyun. “He _always_ does that.”

It was kind of a dramatic exit; the crumpled bills next to his unfinished sandwich, the large strides, the door chime jingling furiously on Mark’s wake. He knew Yuta was trailing after him but didn't stop. Mark didn’t even know where he was going, he’d gone there with Johnny. He’d be lucky to find the bus stop.

“Mark, wait!” Yuta called.

Mark halted, making sure to look extra annoyed when he turned around to face him. “What?”

It’s not often that they get to catch a glimpse of shame in Yuta. He’s one of those people who are unapologetically themselves, and whoever’s got a problem with that ends up getting used to it. Yuta had probably been hoping that Mark would get used to his advances, that he would eventually comply and show him the fucking soulmate marking.

With his eyes downcast, shoulders hunched and hands in his pockets, Yuta apologized. “I’m sorry, I crossed a line. I just…” He rubbed both hands on his face and cursed under his breath. “It’s weird, Mark, I feel this… This _vibration_ whenever I’m with you. It’s like there’s an invisible current, I don’t know. I’ve never felt that with anyone before.”

Mark knew exactly what he was talking about. The thrumming. It was more than compatibility, Mark was fully aware. Could he blame Yuta for being curious? The world paints finding your soulmate in the brightest colors; it’s the most important moment in your life. Was he really to blame if Mark had issues?

He cleared his throat, and said, “M-maybe it’s because you like me.” 

Yuta held his gaze. That vibration he talked about thrummed once, twice. “Maybe that’s it,” said Yuta. He held out his hand. “Let’s go back in. I promise I won’t do it again.”

Mark took his hand, instinctively chasing that feeling. Yuta offered him a tiny smile, guiding Mark back inside. It was just Yuta’s hand, but Mark could feel his pulse so strongly through his palm he might as well have been holding his heart.

\---

At the bar, Yuta wraps an arm around Mark’s waist, bringing him closer. The bartender comes over.

“Hey. What can I get you?” 

The man is good looking. Short, orange hair and a printed shirt, the top two buttons are undone. He watches Yuta with a smile.

“What do you recommend?” Yuta asks, leaning into the bar. His arm is still firmly around Mark.

The bartender arches an eyebrow, blatantly checking Yuta out. “You look like the kind of guy who’d enjoy something spicy.”

Something weird and wicked makes its way up to Mark’s throat. He frowns at the bartender, but the man doesn’t pay him any mind. It’s like Mark is invisible. Somehow, it irks at him. Yuta’s arm is literally around his waist, Mark is standing _right fucking there_ and this man--

“Do you want anything?” Yuta asks cheerfully. The bartender has gone off, probably to prepare whatever Yuta ordered. Mark looks at him, and that ugly thing that crawled up from the depths of his gut tightens.

Detaching himself from Yuta, Mark lets annoyance take over. “Why do you have to flirt with everyone?”

Yuta is taken aback, his eyes wide as saucers. His mouth hangs ajar. “I-I’m sorry?”

“You can’t stop flirting, it fucking pisses me off!” Mark yells, running both hands through his hair because it’s touching his forehead and everything is a bother right now. He should have gone home. Why did he let Yuta talk him out of going home?

The bartender is back with the drink, sliding it towards Yuta on the counter. “Here you go,” he says, _finally_ looking at Mark. “Have you decided on anything?”

“Fuck off!” Mark blurts out, regretting it the minute it comes out.

It’s loud in the club, yet, Mark has the feeling he’d hear a pin falling to the ground. The bartender leaves but Yuta stands still, eyes glued on Mark as if trying to figure him out. Mark is invaded by a horrible sense of shame, wanting nothing but to evaporate.

“I don’t get it,” Yuta says, eyebrows knitted. “You don’t want me to flirt with you, but you get pissed when I flirt with other people?”

Mark’s brain is looping every five seconds, the damned butterflies going rampant in his stomach. He’s got a mechanism, a fight or flight instinct that always works on situations like this. Mark should have taken off by now, he should have pulled yet another dramatic exit and ran home before Yuta even had a chance to speak.

Mark is stuck on the spot like roots have suddenly sprouted from the ground to entangle themselves in his feet. He can’t move. Not even when Yuta takes a step forward, their faces so close that Mark can clearly follow a bead of sweat making its way down Yuta’s chin.

“What is this about, Mark?” he asks, voice low, booming in Mark’s head.

 _Pull yourself together_ , Mark urges himself. _Come on. Move. Just fucking move._

Never mind all the times Mark looked in the mirror and pep-talked himself out of an overflow of emotions. Watching Yuta smile like a tiny star and swallowing down the strongest of his urges. Holding hands while walking around campus just because it feels comfortable and it makes Yuta so damn happy. Never mind waking up in a cold sweat because he feels _it_ in his pulse like it’s a living thing. 

What’s really scary is how much Mark wishes to close the small gap between them.

And then, all those feelings Mark’s worked so hard to ignore, everything that he failed to acknowledge comes pouring into him like heavy rain. Overwhelming, unstoppable.

He holds Yuta’s face in his hands, thumbs pushing at the sides of his mouth. Yuta gasps in surprise, lips parting. Mark’s heart is completely out of control; he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything as much as he wants Yuta right now.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Yuta asks, daring, a glint in his eyes that means trouble like everything he does. His hands squeeze at Mark’s hips, pulling him in. “Come on, Mark. Do it. You want to.”

“Shut up,” Mark groans, and catches his lips.

\---

The first time Mark’s eyes fell on Yuta, he didn’t hear any bells. It felt like meeting someone regular; a passerby who accidentally bumped into you on the streets and was kind enough to stop and apologize. A new neighbor. He didn't feel it straight away. Yuta looked pretty nice that night, fiery red hair tied back in a tiny bun, hair clips pinning stray strands in place. Mark could swear he saw _glitter_ somewhere in there as well. It was all very glamorous. Paired with the fancy printed shirt it made him look expensive.

“That look probably cost a fortune,” Taeyong said when Mark mentioned it. “He’s a trust fund kid, his parents are loaded.”

Once both Taeyong and Jaehyun had pulled their disappearance act, it was just Yuta and Mark. 

He can’t say for sure when it hit him. Sometime during that night, their hands brushed, and suddenly everything was heightened: the goosebumps on Yuta’s arm, the plumpness of his lips, the jolt of electricity Mark felt every single time they touched. Their eyes met, and it was clear they were both wondering the same.

Mark evaded, pretended he didn’t know what Yuta was talking about every single time he mentioned that first night. And how he mentioned it. 

“I think you might be my soulmate,” he said. It was Friday, they met on campus by chance and ended up grabbing coffee at Yuta’s insistence. Mark panicked, dumping too much sugar on his drink like a dumbass, coughing it all over himself. Yuta offered to lend him his jumper so Mark didn’t have to walk home in a stained shirt, and Mark, _just like a dumbass_ , said yes.

He brought the freaking jumper to laundry twice and it still wouldn’t get rid of the scent. The _scent_. Something so characteristically Yuta that it’s hard for Mark to break it down. Maybe there’s a hint of citrus, musk, he’s really not sure. It just smelled like Yuta, so having that jumper in the sanctuary of his room messed up with his sanity. 

He tried. Mark tried returning it, he texted incessantly, even taking to carrying the thing around in hopes of meeting Yuta and finally handing it back. All to no avail. 

The day Yuta showed him his marking, they were at a pool party thrown by yet another frat house. There was a cute freshman making eyes at Mark and he was all about it, ready to engage when Yuta came over.

“He’s a horrible kisser,” he said pointedly. He smelled like booze, but didn’t look drunk at all. It’s one of his quirks -- drinking to his heart’s content and never getting drunk enough to make a scene. “I know he’s pretty, but,” he shrugged. “Not worth it.”

Mark pondered for a second, shot Cute Freshman a quick glance before looking back at Yuta. He had this decided look in his eyes, as if he hadn’t gone all the way over there just to make small talk and advise Mark against hooking up with someone with no kissing skills.

“Hey,” Yuta pushed, silence having stretched too long. He fidgeted with the rim of the plastic cup in his hands, slightly shifting on spot. “Remember what I said last time? About you being my soulmate?”

“Yeah, about that,” Mark swallowed, praying to all that was holy to make him look nonchalant. “I think you got it wrong, man. Sorry.”

Nodding, a couple of his hair locks falling out of place, Yuta said, “We can solve that mystery in no time. If you’ll show me your brand.”

Mark was at loss for words. He just stared at Yuta, waiting for him to laugh boisterously and claim it to have been a prank. He shouldn’t have, though, deep down Mark knew Yuta was serious. 

He scratched the back of his neck, and actually thought about it. 

This was Yuta. A pretty fun, smart guy who was actually into Mark. There was no denying their compatibility; every time they went out Yuta was the one Mark stuck to. When they were on the dancefloor it was almost like choreography, like they knew exactly where the other one would step, where hands were gonna go. Mark _liked_ Yuta. He knew that he liked Yuta ever since the jumper episode, when he spent two weeks struggling to focus in class because that goddamned scent wouldn’t leave him alone.

If Yuta was right and they were soulmates, there was a huge chance that they’d keep getting along fabulously.

So Mark agreed to his proposition and followed him into a bathroom inside the house. Yuta looked a bit nervous as he tried to place the cup on the sink and it toppled over, spilling beer all over the counter space.

“It’s on my thigh, so I’ll just have to pull my pants down. Is that okay?” He asked, eyes bulging out.

Mark just nodded, waiting with bated breath as Yuta unbuckled his belt. He should have suspected when Yuta said it was on his thigh. It was there on the same spot as his, the very same brand. A splotch of dark skin that wouldn’t look like much to anyone else, but Mark spent his whole life trying to decide on a shape. It had already been a bunny, a cloud, a dinosaur, and a cat. In the end he felt it didn’t look like anything in particular, and even looking at it brought a bitter taste into his mouth.

Hoping that he didn’t look spooked enough to spark suspicions, Mark cleared his dry throat, shrugging as if it would bring forth some semblance of normalcy. Yuta’s eyes were keenly focused on him, though, and despite Mark’s best efforts, he wasn’t that easy to fool.

“Uh. Yeah, no. Sorry.” Mark coughed, looking around for an escape route, pathetic and heedless. “I gotta go, see you around.”

He could hear Yuta calling for him as he fled through the door, but Mark ran faster than he’d ever run and never dared to look back.

\---

The cab driver doesn’t say anything. Nor does the doorman to Yuta’s apartment building. Mark is sure the man can see Yuta’s hand up his shirt as they rush past the foyer. They’re lucky to ride an empty lift.

They knock something over as they come in, but with the lights off it’s hard to determine what was dropped. Yuta doesn’t stop, and it’s his apartment, so Mark follows suit.

He lets himself be pushed against the wall, both of Yuta’s hands buried in his hair as he mouths down Mark’s jaw, nips at his chin. Mark feels feverish, like lava courses through his veins instead of blood. He fists the back of Yuta’s jacket, pulling it fiercely enough that his intentions are clear. As soon as it’s out of the way, Mark’s hands roam freely over Yuta’s bare arms, his shoulders, neck. The doodle shirt is thin enough that he’d be able to tear through the fabric if he tried. He decides to lightly run his nails down Yuta’s back instead. The moan he gets in return feels like a reward. 

“Fuck,” Yuta curses, and Mark’s whole body trembles. “Bed, let’s go, now.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, dragging Mark along by the shirt. It’s so hard to keep his hands off Yuta, how did he fucking do it this whole time? They’re just moving to his bedroom, yet Mark feels like he’s going to die if they’re not touching. 

The minute they get to the bedroom, Mark is quick to push Yuta onto the bed. Yuta yelps as his back hits the mattress, taking in a ragged breath as Mark pins him to the mattress, palm to the chest. The lights are still off, but a dreamy mix of moon and street lights comes through his open windows, shining right onto Yuta’s lithe body. 

Mark takes a moment to appreciate the scene. Yuta’s shirt has ridden up, revealing a hint of silver on his navel. His pants hang low on his hips; the lack of a belt making it so easy to pull them down.

Getting rid of his t-shirt is automatic, the rustling of the fabric hitting the floor completely in sync with their breathing. Odd, that it took them so long to get here and Mark thinks he’d be glad if this were all he’s meant to do; watch Yuta fidget in bed, sweat glistening as it trickles down his neck, the tiniest sounds spilling from his mouth the longer Mark stares.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Mark mumbles, delirious as Yuta snakes a hand upward, starting at the smooth, soft bit of skin just below his navel, dragging it past the stud anchored into his belly button. Mark watches the silver bracelet wrapped around his wrist catch in the moonlight as his hand continues to move up the plane of his abdomen, fingers splayed just so under the hem of his shirt, dragging it up to reveal more of his abdomen.

His movements are slow, and Mark knows it's teasing, deliberate, and it makes the heart rattling in his chest pound harder. Mark thinks he's going to lose it when he sees Yuta roll both of his nipples between his fingers, letting out a soft noise.

“Help me take these off?” he asks, moving to unbutton his pants. Mark complies, positive that he’d do whatever Yuta asked of him like he’s under some kind of thrall. He takes Yuta’s shoes and socks off before pulling down his pants and underwear. 

There, on his thigh, lies the soulmate marking. It looks exactly like what Mark remembers, the same splotch of black he wears on his own thigh. He takes in a deep breath, a rush of excitement taking over him at the sight of the soulmate marking -- _their_ marking. For some inexplicable reason, Mark's chest fills with pride. 

He rests a knee on the mattress between Yuta’s legs and slides both hands up the expanse of his thighs with the sort of reverence one bestows upon a king. Mark watches Yuta’s cock twitch under his touch, fully hard over his belly.

Mark gently spreads his legs further apart, lying on his stomach in between. He gives Yuta one last look before pressing a wet kiss to the inside of his thigh, right where the soulmate marking is. The pulsing of the connection between them is earth-shattering; Yuta grips at Mark’s hair with both hands, his back arching from the bed as Mark licks and bites at his skin. Slowly, Yuta’s hold on Mark’s hair shifts into a soothing caress, his fingers brushing down Mark’s temple, thumbs padding at his cheeks. Their eyes lock in a heavy gaze and that connection thumps once more, alive and so tangible that if any of them stretches a hand they might end up touching it. 

He watches the moment realization dawns on Yuta, the subtle way his eyes widen and his lips part. The sharp intake of breath has his shoulders shaking.

Wheezing, Yuta pleads, “Tell me you felt that.” He holds Mark’s face in his hands, blinking sweat away from his eyes, desperate. “Mark--”

Mark’s eyes fall closed and he tilts his head, planting a kiss on the palm of Yuta’s hand before playfully nipping at it. “Yeah,” he whispers, propping himself up on his elbows. “I felt it.”

It’s like they’re moving on slow motion. Mark kneels on the mattress, hands lowering to the waistband of his pants. Yuta sits up expectantly, hands blindly reaching for Mark’s pants, tugging at the fabric, impatient. It brings a smile to Mark’s face, he almost wants to slow down just so he can get Yuta to beg. The thought makes him quiver, scraping his teeth over his bottom lip. 

“You wanna see it?” Mark teases just for fucks, chuckling as Yuta whines, mumbling his name in frustration when his damp, slippery fingers fail to unzip Mark’s jeans. A surge of affection washes over him. “Pull it down.”

And so Yuta does. He pulls down Mark’s pants to reveal the marking.

Nothing could have ever prepared Mark for the absolutely stunned look on Yuta’s face as he stares at it. The rise and fall of his chest, the way light dances across his eyes, the trembling of his lip. It feels like a print, his fingers over the spot on Mark’s thigh. He looks up, both of his hands rubbing up and down Mark’s legs as if he’s not sure what to do, how to react. Mark just yanks his pants the rest of the way, tossing them somewhere behind them. 

“I knew it,” Yuta says, the tip of his nose cold against Mark’s skin. He presses an open-mouthed kiss right there, then settles both hands on the back of Mark’s thighs, readjusting their position until he manages to pull Mark onto his lap. “I knew it, baby, it’s you.”

“You did,” Mark pants, Yuta’s hands leaving a trail of fire up his back, flaming hot when they squeeze his neck. “You figured it out.”

“I knew the moment I saw you, Mark,” his eyes fall to Mark’s lips, fingers working fast to close the distance between their faces. “I’m so into you.”

Despite kissing nonstop on their way over from the club, somehow this one feels different. Maybe it’s in the delicate quality of Yuta’s fingers on Mark’s jaw, how natural it feels to just wrap his arms around Yuta’s neck, how Mark moves even closer because it just seems like they should be touching more. Maybe it’s the soft, smooth pecks on Yuta’s lips, Mark’s hands brushing his sweaty, loose hair back. It’s the way they giggle when one of Yuta’s hair strands gets caught in their kiss, Mark carefully picking it out and releasing it into the air.

Mark brushes his nose against Yuta’s, dragging out the moment their lips touch again just a tiny bit. He curls his tongue just shy off Yuta’s mouth, licking over it when he gives chase. Yuta’s hand on Mark’s nape keeps him in place as his tongue pushes past Mark’s lips, a shiver running down his spine.

Wanting _more_ , Mark places both palms over Yuta’s chest and pushes him until they topple over, Yuta’s back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. As they fall, Mark’s cock brushes over Yuta’s, and suddenly he’s hyper-aware of his own arousal.

Groaning, Mark grinds down, needing that friction again. He feels it in his marrow, shaking all over at the feel of Yuta’s hard cock against his. Yuta drags out a moan, running his fingers tightly down Mark’s back. Mark gives him one last wet kiss before sliding down, spreading Yuta’s legs to lie in between.

The piercing on his navel doesn’t look new. It’s all healed, which is what prompts Mark into touching it, lifting his eyes to meet Yuta’s half-lidded ones. 

“You never told me about this,” Mark says, fascinated by the way Yuta’s abdomen contracts every time he pokes at the piercing.

“Ah,” Yuta huffs, licking over his lips. “Would you have taken me sooner if I had?”

Mark blinks at him, opting for licking a fat stripe up his navel. Yuta tastes salty like sweat, shuddering and sighing loudly as Mark bites at his skin, sucking the silver stud into his mouth. When one of Yuta’s shaky hands reaches out to slowly tease his own cock, Mark grabs him by the wrist, taking over the task by thumbing at the slit of Yuta’s cock, spreading precome all over the head. He watches Yuta wince in pleasure, whining and throwing his head back onto the mattress. Mark keeps on mouthing at his navel, softly tugging at the stud. Not even Mozart, Mark doesn’t think, could have composed a symphony as beautiful as Yuta’s moaning.

“Do you want my mouth?” Mark asks.

“Yes, please,” he whines, the hand Mark pushed away coming to grip at his hair.

Mark makes a tiny detour, biting their marking on Yuta’s thigh (and being graced with the cutest yelp ever) before wrapping his mouth around him. It tastes sweaty and salty just like his navel, a little more heady. Precome usually tastes weird to him, but this doesn’t feel like any of the other times. Blowing Yuta is like another experience entirely. 

He runs his tongue from the base of Yuta’s cock up to the underside, giving the tip a full, through slurp. Mark revels in the noises it pulls out of Yuta, the way he moans Mark’s name. It leads him to the conclusion that he’s been an idiot for far too long. Too much time was wasted being scared of a dumb splotch on his inner thigh when he could have been doing this. He could have been watching Yuta squirm as Mark licked him, hearing his name being said like it’s a prayer. 

It’s like nothing matters but _this_. Not any of the other people they hooked up with, not that bartender, not Mark’s parents. There’s only Mark and Yuta, his soulmate. It should be scary, and it probably will feel scary once he’s down from the absolute high of fucking the one person who perfectly mirrors your soul. Later, when they’re both tired and sated and aware of the world outside.

\---

Mark didn’t go home after fleeing the pool party. He wasn’t in the mood to fight off Jaehyun’s endless questions, and going home would just mean pretending none of that had happened. Mark needed to think. 

He walked around the neighborhood, scaring strays and little kids alike with his pebble kicking and brooding combo.

He thought about his parents, about their unhappy marriage. He thought about not having a single memory of them being kind to each other. Just having a laugh, or going out as a couple. 

Mark remembered the fights, though. He remembered his father sitting by the kitchen table looking helpless, his mom locking herself in the bathroom for hours on end. Mark remembered sharing his friends’ school lunches because neither of them had recalled packing his. 

In his memories lay a life of unhappiness, and to this day he’s unsure if their soulmate bond had anything to do with it.

When Mark finally checked his phone, there were several texts from Yuta.

[6:32 PM] **Yuta:**  
m ark i’m sorry

[6:32 PM] **Yuta:**  
i shouldnt hv asked you t do htat

[6:33 PM] **Yuta:**  
can we talk?

[6:34 PM] **Yuta:**  
please?

[6:37 PM] **Yuta:**  
i cant find you  
did u leave the party?

[6:44 PM] **Yuta:**  
are we okay?

[7:01 PM] **Yuta:**  
jaehyun is going home is it ok if i go with him?

Mark's stomach clenched painfully as he read. 

He was afraid. To most people, your family is your number one reference to everything. Mark’s primary reference to soulmates was a couple who, despite the identical brands on their wrists, hated each other. Mark and Yuta don’t hate each other, they get along pretty well, but certainly Mark’s parents had to have gotten along at some point as well, right? Otherwise they wouldn’t have married each other.

Taking a deep breath, he typed an answer.

[8:26 PM] **Me:**  
Yeah, man, sure it’s okay! I just remembered there was something I had to do, sorry for not replying right away hahaha. And no worries. I didn’t even see your marking that well, don’t worry!

\---

Mark wakes up to a blinding stream of sunlight right on his face. He props himself up on his elbows and gets situated. The events of the previous night come back in bits. First, the club, Mark yelling at the bartender. The lift, making out in the car. Then _here_.

He fucked Yuta last night. The ghost of everything Mark felt lingers beneath his skin, itching, the brand on his thigh thumping like heartbeat. Yuta is nowhere to be seen. The door is ajar, filtering in noises from the next room.

Does Mark want to go outside? Even if he meant to avoid the talk they obviously need to have, how would he even bail? He’s been doing that this entire time under the pretense of protecting himself. How much of it is actually self-preservation, how much is apprehension? What threat is Yuta posing right now? Kissing until they’re both out of breath? Sucking Mark’s soul out through his dick? Last night was _good_. It was liberating.

There’s so much he doesn’t know about having a soulmate, about sharing your life with someone. He’s done his fair share of reading, he talks to people. Mark knows there are alternatives, he knows there are soulmate couples who never get married. He knows there are soulmates out there who never even get to meet their other halves. They’re still living out their lives to their best, maybe that’s the reference he needs.

Urging himself with words of encouragement muttered under his breath, Mark gets up. He collects his clothes from the floor, heat rising up his neck as he recalls the frantic rhythm they went at last night. He gets dressed, stopping by the full-length mirror Yuta keeps next to his wardrobe to adjust his hair. After tugging it for a bit, Mark deems it a lost cause and makes his way out of the bedroom.

\---

Things didn’t get weird between them. Somehow, they managed to make a routine out of it. Yuta flirted, Mark eluded. Yuta mentioned the soulmate brand, Mark would feign ignorance. Their expectations for each other were all over the place. It was all leading to a tragic outcome, an inevitable failure.

\---

Yuta looks up from his bagel when Mark shows up, the corners of his mouth dusted with crumbles, his hair a slightly more contained mess than Mark’s (he definitely spent some time taming it). It’s a somewhat familiar sight -- Mark and the others have crashed at Yuta’s a couple of times, and every time Yuta gets up earlier than everyone else to get bagels and coffee delivered from their usual café. It’s strange, but Mark can swear the bagels taste much better in here.

“Hey,” Yuta greets, blinking at Mark. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and shorts, sitting on the couch, legs folded underneath. Not really doing much, yet, Mark’s heart picks up.

“Hey,” Mark replies, stepping tentatively towards Yuta while scratching the back of his head. He points to the obvious box sitting on the coffee table. “Are those bagels?”

“You know it,” Yuta nods. “Help yourself.”

Things never got weird between them, not when Yuta bared himself and Mark fled. Not even when they almost kissed at Johnny’s birthday party and Mark faked being drunk to get away from an embarrassing situation. 

But now, for the first time ever, it’s weird.

Mark grabs a bagel, sitting at the armchair directly across from the couch. He knows Yuta is watching him in that calculating way of his, and it makes him self-conscious of everything from the way he chews to where he places his hands. Something ugly and uncomfortable settles into his stomach, and Mark wonders if he made a gargantuan mistake showing Yuta his marking last night.

“You weren’t drunk last night, were you?”

The question takes him by surprise. Mark arches both eyebrows, just knowing he looks like a moron with his puffed-out cheeks and sesame seeds all over the face. He chews faster, swallowing everything down before replying.

“What?” He remembers the sesame seeds and brushes a hand over his face.

“Were you drunk last night?” Yuta repeats himself, a serious look on his face. “Do you remember what happened?”

It makes sense that he’s asking. Mark’s got a history of pretending not to remember stuff, maybe Yuta is expecting him to pull the same trick. It would be easy to do so, Mark’s got the act crafted to perfection. Yuta is probably expecting him to whip up some half-assed excuse anyway. Easy.

It would also make everything blow into a tragic outcome. The inevitable failure.

It takes every single bit of bravery in Mark’s bones (not a lot to begin with) to drop his bagel back into the box and say:

“I wasn’t drunk.”

Yuta doesn’t react at first. He just blinks at Mark, his eyebrow twitching almost imperceptibly. 

“Okay. But do you remember what happened?” He echoes, leaning forward, his bagel following Mark’s into the box.

“Yes, I do,” Mark is quick to reply. “I remember.”

Heaving a sigh, Yuta asks, “Everything?”

It’s then that Mark realizes. Yuta is sitting there putting up a show of keeping his expectations low but his breath is coming out frazzled, and his feet are incessantly tapping on the floor. He’s nervous. He fears that Mark is going to deny everything, that he’ll once again do what he does best and escape.

_I’ve been really selfish, haven’t I?_

While he did what he thought was best for himself, Mark threw Yuta under the bus without questioning. 

Pulling up from the chair, Mark walks around the coffee table and takes a seat on the couch, right next to Yuta.

Yuta watches the entire move with knitted eyebrows and parted lips. When Mark claims the seat the furrow on his brows eases up, but the question still dances across his eyes.

Resting a hand on Yuta’s knee, Mark nods. “I remember the club. I remember seeing you kiss someone else and wanting to punch them in the face. I remember that I told the bartender off because you were flirting with him. I remember I kissed you. I couldn’t not kiss you then, so I did. I remember we probably scarred that cab driver for life.” He smiles, watching Yuta’s face change like the sunrise. “I remember we came up here and you took me to your bedroom. You looked so good bathed in moonshine. You always look great, but that was… You were…” 

Mark shakes his head, disconcerted, and Yuta snorts. His hands sneak beneath Mark’s and he laces their fingers together with a squeeze. _Keep it going. You owe him that._

“I remember showing you my marking,” he says, voice a little shaky, his throat feeling a bit tight. “You said you knew it and called me baby again.”

Sliding closer until their shoulders are touching, Yuta says, “You like it when I call you baby.”

And with a loud exhale, Mark admits, “I do.”

That’s what does it. Yuta breathes out in relief, shoulders sagging as he jumps Mark, arms around his neck, face pushed into his neck. Mark laughs, wrapping him in a tight hug. That tangible thing connecting them throbs, and it suddenly feels like it’s expansive.

Yuta holds Mark’s face in his hands and kisses him several times, all over the face. It’s ticklish and so, so sweet that Mark can’t help but burst into laughter, rubbing his hands on Yuta’s back in a way he believes to be soothing.

“ _Baby_ ,” Yuta teases, kissing up Mark’s jaw, making him whine in protest and try to hide his face in Yuta’s shoulder. Yuta won’t let him. “Hey, look at me.” Mark allows his face to be lifted. “Are you okay?”

He nods. “I’m fine.”

Yuta smiles, so bright it might actually rival that sunbeam from earlier this morning. “Thank you for trusting me with your brand.”

It feels unfair that Mark fooled him for such a long time and Yuta is out here showering him with love and being thankful.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner,” Mark says.

“Don’t be sorry,” Yuta cups his face gently, brushing a thumb under Mark’s eye. “You had your reasons, didn’t you?”

“I lied and ran away and ghosted you. I was an ass.”

Yuta shakes his head. “I wasn’t upset. We could all tell you were dealing with some shit, it didn’t feel right to demand anything from you. Also, I could have stopped flirting and calling you my soulmate and _baby_...”

“But I liked it when you called me baby,” Mark mutters, and Yuta grins.

“I’ll call you baby twenty-four seven if that’s what you want,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to Mark’s lips.

He nods, lowering his eyes for a second. “I’ll tell you everything. About why I didn’t… Why I acted that way.”

“Mark, you don’t have to,” Yuta reiterates, eyes taking on that serious glimmer. “You don’t owe me any explanations, we’re good.”

“But I do. I saw your brand, I knew you were my soulmate and I lied.”

Yuta squints, “Thought you said you didn’t see much of it back then.”

Mark sighs, eyes glued to Yuta’s collarbones. “As I said, I lied.” He feels shame wash over him once again and worries at the hem of Yuta’s shirt. “I’ll tell you. Not today, but I’ll tell you all about my soulmate parents and their horrible, loveless marriage and how it totally traumatized me.”

When he finally has the guts to look up, Yuta has a soft look on his face, the corners of his mouth rising up. “Alright,” he says. “I want to hear about that if you’d like to share.”

“Not now, though,” Mark reminds him.

“Okay, not now. What do you want to do now, then?”

Oh, Mark’s got some great ideas. 

(It’s kissing. All of his ideas involve kissing. Luckily, Yuta is up for the challenge.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Leave me a comment, tell me what you think (but be nice, pls). 
> 
> @ [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/maplemooncake)


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